


Awakenings

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair are on their way to visit the Chopec, when their plane crashes.   </p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakenings

 

**Awakenings by Alyjude**

 

Octavio sat beside Apurimac. The elder was weaving, his body swaying from side to side, eyes closed, chanting. Finally....

"He comes. His Guide as well. There is -- a break. A chasm. The Sentinel of the Great City does not listen."

Octavio sat forward, eager for more, "How soon?"

The great head shook, eyes still closed. "I do not know. Elena will sense his coming. We must be ready. I fear -- the loss of a Sentinel's mind."

The younger man, Incacha's son, felt great dread. The loss of a Sentinel's mind? A chasm? He must talk with his father. Soon. Incacha would know.

*****

Hot and steamy.

And Blair Sandburg wasn't describing his love life, which like Cascade, was cold and clammy. What he was describing was his current environment. The Peruvian jungle.

He and Jim Ellison were currently hacking their way through dense jungle, or rather, Jim was hacking, as Blair cleverly walked _behind_ the bigger man, thus missing most slapping branches, leaves and grasping undergrowth. He took some comfort in his cleverness and allowed a small smirk to lift the corners of his mouth.

"You're smirking."

So now The Sentinel of the Great City had a new sense? Hindsight?

"Me? Smirk?"

"Yes, you. And since you got us into this mess, you have given up your right to smirk."

"How did I know that somehow this fiasco would become my fault?"

"You _said_ you could fly the plane." Jim's arm continued its strong hacking as he talked.

"I could and I did."

"Yeah. Until you didn't. You crashed, remember?"

"I did not crash. I had what is called, in pilot parlance, a _rough_ landing."

"You -- _crashed_."

"Jim, the fucking plane lost fucking altitude!"

"Which in pilot parlance is the major cause of most crashes.... you lose altitude, you hit the ground, see? And you -- hit -- the -- ground. Hard. Pilots are supposed to _regain_ altitude."

"JIM! Our pilot was dead and we'd lost an engine!"

"We had -- other engines."

"One. One other engine. Because you, Mr. Thrifty, booked us on 'R Flites R Cheap'. The mother of all cut-rate airlines."

"So you're turning this around on me? Making it my fault? _I_ didn't shoot the pilot, Chief."

"No, but you shot our co-passenger, who shot our pilot."

"SANDBURG, HE WAS A DRUG SMUGGLER!"

"Jim," Blair intoned, patience personified, "Of course he was a drug smuggler. We're in Peru, on vacation, what else _would_ he be?"

They both fell silent then, Jim's arm whacking away, Blair plodding on behind him. They were making slow progress, with Blair carrying all their supplies and sleeping bags.

In actuality, Blair had brought the plane down well enough to save their lives, but not well enough to protect either the signaling device or the beacon, and the radio had been killed in the inflight gunfight.. With no way of letting anyone know of their misfortune, it had been decided to make their way out of the jungle on foot. What with no cars, trains or buses immediately available. No taxis either, not in the deepest part of the Andes. Gosh darn it.

Blair was starting to slow, to find it difficult to keep up with the machine ahead of him. As a result, it didn't take long before he shut down his mind so that he could place all his concentration on the simple action of letting one foot fall in front of the other. Some people called it walking.

Blair called it survival.

He was deep in his survival concentration when Jim's voice penetrated.

"So, where did you learn to fly?"

A question. Requiring an answer. Shit.

"Summer -- boyfriend -- pilot." He was really concentrating now... left foot, right foot, left foot....

He was so deep in the mechanics of walking, he failed to notice that Jim had frozen in place, which resulted in his thudding into the brick wall that was Jim Ellison's considerable chest. And he bounced off, back and down.

"HEY?!"

"Did you say -- _boyfriend_?" Jim squeaked out.

Sandburg looked up from the floor of the jungle and wondered if Jim had gone nuts, so he simply asked, "Have you gone nuts?"

"You _said_ boyfriend."

"Yeah....so??? It's not like she ever married any of 'em, you know. You gonna give me a hand up?"

Jim reached down and pulled, and two backpacks, two sleeping bags and one slightly worse for wear Guide were upright once again.

"So, _Naomi's_ boyfriend taught you to fly.... How many hours did you log?" Jim was proud. Not an ounce of relief sounded in his voice.

They were moving again, and Ellison couldn't see the devastated look on his partner's face as Blair considered Jim's unhappiness about hearing of another one of Naomi's _boyfriends_.

All Sandburg could think was that Jim really did have a jones for his mother.

"Sandburg? You still back there?"

Blair gave a little mental shake as he answered, "Where else would the Lone Ranger find Tonto?"

"Well, to be precise? On a horse, riding _alongside_ him. You holding out on me? You hiding a horse in your backpack?"

"112."

Jim came to another abrupt halt, but Blair was ready and stopped in time.

"112? You have 112 horses in your backpack?"

"No. Hours. Flying."

To Blair, Jim's puzzled expression was priceless.

"You know, Chief," and he shook his head sadly, "I think you've finally gone around that big anthropological/cop bend in the sky."

Sandburg huffed some hair out of his eyes and said, "You asked how many hours I'd logged. I answered. I assumed the horse question was rhetorical and your lame attempt at humor."

"Well," Jim humphed.

Blair quirked an eyebrow.

Ellison turned back and restarted his hacking. But since they'd pretty much found a clear path, and the jungle was on either side, Jim was now going out of his way to 'hack' and Blair had the distinct impression that the vegetation was instead of -- him.

Like he cared.

And damn -- his stomach hurt.

They continued their march through Peru, silent, and Blair wondered if Superman up ahead was at all tired. They'd been walking how long now? Three -- four hours? Well, _he_ was tired. _He_ was exhausted. But he didn't dare say anything. After all, the Guide has to be able to keep up with the Sentinel, right? Besides, he was in good shape, he worked out now, ran every morning, he was a cop, for crissakes. He _should_ be able to keep up. He should.

And whose idea was this damn vacation anyway? Oh, right. His. And the foolish reason? The same reason so many couples took unscheduled vacations... to salvage the marriage, the relationship.

Of course, _they_ weren't married, but they did have a partnership and a friendship to save, and Blair thought a weekend of camping might help. Unfortunately, when he'd broached the subject, the simple weekend had become two weeks in Peru. Camping, fishing, communing with the Chopec. All thanks to the new Cascade Police Policy about vacation hours and ceilings. If Jim didn't use 'em, he'd lose 'em. He was _way_ past the new ceiling of 240 hours. Way past.

And then, of course, there'd been that little side bet, between Jim and Simon. A bet that said he and Jim could not go on vacation without something happening. A bet that Joel and Henri had been quick to jump on.... um, would now be a good time to remind Jim of said bet? That Jim now owed Simon, Joel and Henri fifty bucks -- _each_? Nah. Totally unfair.

"So, Jim. Just how much _do_ you now owe Simon, Joel, and Henri?" Fair was no fun.

Jim's arm paused mid slash, then continued its downward arc as he answered, "Fifty each. But I don't think they'll be too quick to collect, when I come back sans my partner. But don't worry, I'll make sure the funeral is tasteful, and I'll seat all your girlfriends far enough apart that they don't get into any catfights. Discreet, tasteful.... yep, I think I'll be keeping my $150."

Like a lot of Jim's barbs of late, this one held a slight edge to it, an edge that caused Blair to once again mentally ask himself why Jim had ever bothered bringing him back from the dead. Why the hell bother?

The next two hours passed in the same silence, with a couple of short breaks giving Blair a chance to catch his breath. But his struggle to keep up was even more pronounced, as he kept his lips pursed in a determined line, tried to keep his breathing even, and tried to ignore the growing pain in his stomach.

They broke through the jungle into a clearing and with a curt, "Stay here," Jim started ahead, out into the open, in full Sentinel mode. Blair let the supplies drop to the ground and watched as Jim moved with feline grace and stealth, noticed the slight pauses, the tilted head, then finally waving Sandburg to him.

Blair picked everything back up, grimaced as his stomach protested, and joined his partner.

Jim stood at the far edge of the clearing, silent, unmoving. Blair reached his side and, looking up at him, puzzled, said, "Jim?"

"The Chopec Valley."

Blair followed Jim's pointing arm, and caught his breath. They stood on what Blair now realized was an outcropping and below them -- spread out in all its glory, breathtaking and majestic, the valley. Their destination.

"My God," he whispered, reverently. "Jim, how far to the Chopec village?" he added.

"Two days' walk. Maybe a bit more. That's once we get down from here."

Blair hid his disappointment. Two more days.

"Anything -- any villages -- closer?"

"None we'd want to meet up with, Chief. You worried?"

"No." And he wasn't. Exactly. He wasn't worried about _them_ , after all, he was with Jim. But he was worried about himself. He felt like shit and the idea of two or more days trying to keep up with Jim, to hide his damn inadequacies, and it didn't really matter how many expeditions he'd been on, or how many countries he'd seen, or how many jungles he'd been in, he'd never felt equal to Jim, could never _be_ Jim's equal. Hell, he even had the sneaking suspicion that Jim didn't believe half the stories Blair told, which was funny, really, because he'd only told _half_ the stories.

His thoughts were once again interrupted by Jim's voice.

"... not a bad spot to camp for the night. We've got water and enough food until we get down to the valley. Sound good?"

"Whatever."

Jim frowned at Sandburg's lackluster response, and he slowly pulled the sleeping bags from his partner's shoulder and asked, "You want to gather up some wood for a fire?"

Blair didn't bother to answer, he just headed off to pick up what he could find.

*****

Octavio sat in the middle of his hut, legs crossed, eyes closed. The fire blazed with a cold, blue flame, and his voice called out to his father. For several minutes, the only sound was of flames licking at wood, and his own breathing. Then....

"Octavio, you call me from my resting place?"

The young man nodded, eyes still closed.

"Yes, my father. There is trouble."

"I have seen it, my son. But no trouble for Elena, she is strong."

"And for The Sentinel of the Great City?"

Incacha, who appeared before Octavio's closed eyes, was silent, frowning. Then he shook his head and spoke again.

"My adopted son's heart is good, strong. He is a great Sentinel. But he does not hear. I showed him the power of his Guide, he did not listen, would not see. I showed him _his_ true power, and still he would not see."

"Why would he turn from these truths, father?"

"His world is so much more complicated and his hurt runs deep. I fear for him. And I fear for his Guide. So young, trying so hard to be so many things, to be so much to one individual. You can help him, Octavio, and so can Yurajmayo."

Octavio's head tilted in quesion, "Help?"

"The Guide, the young shaman. Yurajmayo must share with him, if we are to save him. Be ready Octavio, be ready." Incacha's voice faded and the flames went orange and red, and warmth filled the hut, filled the young man.

He would be ready.

*****

Blair sat with his sleeping bag wrapped around him, huddled by the fire. They'd eaten; it was now many hours later, and Jim was finally asleep. They hadn't talked much as the night wore on, Blair because of lack of energy, and Jim, well, it wasn't as if Jim was a talker anyway. Blair watched the flames, flickering, shooting up colorful sparks, and for all his exhaustion, he found that he couldn't sleep.

He glanced down at his watch, catching the time in the light from the fire. It was almost five-thirty. Dawn would come soon.

It was odd, Jim sleeping so soundly. At least, others would think so... others like Simon or Connor. What they didn't know was that if any unusual sounds made themselves known, came close to camp, Jim Ellison would be up and ready to attack in a moment. But his partner's noises were normal to the Sentinel, catalogued and dismissed.

The fire was dying down and slowly, carefully, Blair rose and shuffled over to the edge of the clearing and picked up some wood, shuffled back to the fire and dropped the branches onto the heap. Shit, they were in the goddamned jungle and he was freezing.

Before sitting back down, he glanced up at the horizon and saw the beginnings of the dawn. He moved slowly over to the edge of the outcropping and watched.

It came slowly, gently. First, dark orange, just peeking up over the valley, fingertips only, and the clouds showing as purple shadings. Then the orange lightened, and streaks of pink joined in, melting into the orange. As he watched, enthralled, Blair felt an overwhelming sadness settle in his heart. The pink and orange were now joined by yellow, and an almost _whiteness_ , and still, the sun remained hidden. And the sadness grew, grew until it had taken over his mind and body, until it was a physical being, painful, hurting, sharing his soul, twisting his soul. The new day was bittersweet, the dawn, beautiful, signaling a new beginning, but to Blair, it signaled an end.

And he could admit it now, admit it as he watched the sun begin its journey up, as the clouds became bright, as shades of pink, pale, or fiery red, and pale yellows, brightening with the rising, took over the sky -- he could admit that his life with Jim Ellison was over. That their partnership was over. Their friendship gone. Destroyed.

And as darkness was swept aside, as it moved below him chased out by the rising orb, as the valley grew pale, shrouded in mists, and as the mists gave way to the warmth of the new sun, he could see his own culpability in the destruction of their friendship. Broken. Like the darkness, broken by the light of day.

Behind him, he heard the flames spit and crackle as they found a bit of moisture in the wood, and he knew, if he turned and looked into the flames, he would see the same colors that were spread out before him, in the sky above. And he reached out, and up, trying to touch the heaven, but touched his own hurt instead, a deep hurt, and an anger, an anger and hurt he'd been keeping locked up inside of him, holding and hiding since Jim had kicked him out, since the hospital, since Sierra Verde, since Ventriss and Veronica, and since Jim had believed he could actually sell Jim's life to the highest bidder. And he let the hurt and anger go.... just let -- go. And the sun was almost completely revealed now, the sky a brilliant blue and magenta, clouds now white, with only the palest pink to remind them of their previous velvet.

And as he continued to watch, he recognized that he had no right to the hurt, to the anger. He'd forfeited them long ago.

How could Jim think anything else? How could he expect Jim's trust when he'd never really given Jim any reason to believe that his interest was anything but scientific? That Jim meant anything more to him than fame? Riches? A name?

Words thundered inside his brain as the sun rose completely, as the valley was now bright with day...

_"Oh, man, I thought this was just going to be a thesis paper, but I think we're talking best seller here...."_

Hadn't he said that, before they'd even known each other a week?

_"Hey, Jim, what was it like, when those things started happening with your senses?"_

_"Everything was bigger than usual, more intense, why?"_

_"How intense?"_

And Jim, telling him, after their little adventure on the train, that everything was fine now, and what had he said?

_"Damn."_

Jim had been through hell and all Blair could say was damn. And then he'd suggested they give the stuff to him again! So much heart, so much caring and concern.

And how about Jim's first physical? Oh, yeah, he'd been real sympathetic....

_"Hey, I have something at stake here too, what if the world finds out about this prematurely? There goes my thesis, my book, the movie rights alone, for crying out loud...."_

Or his concern when Jim revealed a brother? The man had been hurting, had tried to bluff through it, and how had Blair handled it?

_"You never told me you had a brother!"_

_"There's nothing to tell."_

_"What do you mean, there's nothing to tell, Jim? I mean your Sentinel abilities could be hereditary, what if he's got it too?"_

And then, after Jim had come back with that remark about sending Steven into the jungle for eighteen months to see what would happen, what had unselfish, kind, giving, Blair Sandburg said?

_"I could apply for a grant."_

It was no longer dawn, it was now officially morning. And Blair Sandburg was a shit. A parasite. So hurt when he'd been kicked out, so quick to say he was sorry, but hell.... you don't just say you're sorry when you've been a cold-hearted prick.

He gazed down at the valley, knowing the Chopec were down there, knowing he could not face them. Could not let them see what he was. And they would see. They would know. Jim knew, but it was an unconscious knowledge. Except... he'd believed Blair would sell him out.

The fact that Blair would never have sold out Jim Ellison, not now, not one day after he'd met him, did nothing to salve Blair's heart or conscience.

The day was here, and it was over for Blair Sandburg.

*****

It took them three hours to travel down to the valley. They talked not at all, but Jim was worried about his friend, the uncharacteristic silence a symptom.

Blair was conserving strength, the pain in his gut a constant burn now.

Once down, and after an additional two hours, Blair found himself slowing, finding it more and more difficult to breathe, to put one foot before the other. But he couldn't say the words, couldn't say -- stop.

Jim heard a small gasp from behind, followed by a dull thud. He whirled to find Blair face down on the jungle floor. He dropped to his knees before the prone figure and carefully turned him over in his arms.

"Blair? Dear God, you said you were all right...." Jim's hand moved over Blair's face and he noted the pale, clammy skin, and Blair's shallow breathing....

*****

Jim sat beside the still unconscious Sandburg, monitoring his vitals and watching the pale, handsome face, so calm in repose.

After Blair's collapse, Jim had created a makeshift camp, started a fire, settled Blair on one sleeping bag and covered him with the other. Then he'd begun his search for the injury and, after lifting his grey Henley, it hadn't taken long. He'd found a bruised and rigid stomach. Internal injury? Bleeding? He'd sat back on his haunches, swearing and frightened, as his own recent words had come back to haunt him....

" _...I don't think they'll be too quick to collect when I come back sans my partner.... I'll make sure the funeral is tasteful...."_

Sweet Jesus, what kind of man was he? How could he have said something so thoughtless?

The skin under his fingers had been hot, and as Jim had stared at the still, slack face, he'd experienced a moment of true despair. This was, somehow, much more devastating than the fountain....

Jim continued to gaze down at the countenance he'd come to know so well, and he was surprised to see the eyelids flutter open, as Blair squinted, trying to focus, then, "jim?"

Ellison leaned forward, his hand resting lightly on Sandburg's shoulder as he said, "Right here, Chief, right here."

Blair licked his dry lips and whispered, "What happened?"

"I'd say we damaged more than the plane in the crash. Blair, why didn't you say something? Tell me you were injured?"

"I... didn't realize.... some -- discomfort, in my stomach, but...." He paused, closing his eyes tightly against the pain, then, "... just thought it was my -- ulcer."

Jesus. Blair? An ulcer?

"jim, you should be able to _feel_ an -- injury... or bleeding...."

Ellison gave a slight shake of his head as he answered, "I don't -- see how, Chief."

"your hand... concentrate, you..." he swallowed and bit down on his bottom lip before continuing, "... can _feel_ the blood flow, bruising, whatever.... try it."

Jim squared his shoulders, trusting his Guide, knowing that if Blair said he could -- then he could. He lifted the shirt and rested his hand tenderly over the hot, rigid skin, closed his eyes, and concentrated... on his sense of touch, letting his medic-trained mind take over....

... the flow of blood, passing in, out, capillaries, veins, the arteries, and now the digestive fluids, and he could hear them, squeezing through thin tunnels, then muscle, tightening, relaxing, and finally, the tough, hard bruise, almost solid, and a minute tear... with blood where it shouldn't be....

His eyes opened to find pain-filled, but remarkably calm blue eyes regarding him.

"internal bleeding?"

Jim swallowed and nodded. Blair's eyes fluttered closed and he gave a small sigh, then, "how much farther to the village?"

"Maybe a day and a half."

Blair's lids rose, as he licked his lips again and surveyed the camp, and did some quick figuring.... without him, Jim could make it to the village in less than a day... he knew that.

In as strong a voice as he could muster, he said, "You'll have to leave me, man. With water, wood and some food, I'll be fine for a couple of days, until you bring back help."

Jim was astounded. Blair's voice was a bit louder, but so matter-of-fact, as if he actually assumed....

"We go together, Blair. No discussion."

"Don't be an ass. I can't go any further and you know it. If you try to haul me across this jungle, even in a travois, it'll take twice, maybe three times as long. You _have_ to go without me."

"Not happening, Chief. You're in no condition to protect yourself. Now, go to sleep while I put together a stretcher."

Jim rose, and leaving no room for argument, he moved into the dense greenery, and Blair watched, helpless, as the retreating back eventually disappeared from view.

*****

As Blair slept, Jim worked. His fingers wove easily, as they remembered long forgotten techniques. He pulled vines and wove them with fronds between the two long, fairly straight branches he'd been lucky to find. As night fell, he completed the litter and tested it by firelight.

His last task was to tie off the long vine he'd found, thus creating a strap by which he would drag the litter.

Jim picked up the stretcher and leaned it against a tree, testing its strength and, when satisfied, he put it back down and covered it with soft, jungle grass, then added some of his shirts. He leaned back and surveyed his handiwork. Yes, with the addition of the sleeping bags, Blair would be very comfortable. He set the litter to the side and once again rested a hand on Blair's forehead, and was relieved to find it only slightly warm, much like his own. This was a good sign.

For several minutes he sat, content to observe Blair, but eventually his mind demanded that he think. Think of his stupidity, acknowledge his responsibility, and as he absently rubbed his temple, he tried to put the last weeks in some perspective.... To understand some of his words, and actions. And as he thought, he found himself concentrating on the gentle rise and fall of Blair's chest, almost willing it to continue, to give Jim a chance....

For some ridiculous reason, a song line, from Jimmy Durante, popped into his head....

"Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay? Go - stay, stay - go...."

And the words changed as they rattled around inside his brain.... "Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted him to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted him to stay? Go - stay, stay - go."

Push - pull.... pull - push.

Staying meant -- that Jim _needed_. Going meant -- that Jim had control. But _want_ figured in there as well.... so Jim held on, and pushed away.

He let his gaze drift from Blair's rising/falling chest to the small frown that marred the beauty that was Blair Sandburg's face.... and Jim gave himself permission to really look, to get his fill of the man and, with that permission, came clarity.

He wanted and needed Blair Sandburg, and like a petulant, confused teenager, he'd rebelled. No one should have such control over another human being. No one. But such control was exactly what Blair Sandburg had over Jim Ellison. As awareness came, Jim began to stroke Sandburg's arm, and he realized that he'd been pushing Blair away for years, while at the same time, trying to hold the man close, trying to keep him in his life.

Pulling - Pushing.

Love - Hate.

Life - Death.

Blair - Jim.

His eyes took in the strong, broad forehead, the pug nose, the line of Blair's jaw, the lips, the slightly cleft chin.... and he found himself speaking to the sleeping man, his voice hushed, almost in a vow-like cadence....

"Pulling, as in pulling you to me, and keeping you near my heart, and Love, because I do, and Life because the opposite is unthinkable, and finally... Blair. I choose you, Blair, freely, without reservation, and I choose you above all others, I choose you above being a cop, above being a Sentinel, and I choose you above -- me."

His words, spoken in promise, a verbal bonding, floated above them, and the air seemed to crackle, and like a summer lightening storm, it was heavy, supercharged, static....

Then quiet... and Jim bowed his head, felt the weight of the world, of his love for Blair Sandburg, and perceived the world as it would be without Blair by his side, and a heart-wrenching cry imploded within his chest, his heart, and his hands clenched into fists, and his head shook, in denial, because it would not happen. There would be no world without Blair.

His head lifted and he opened his eyes to find puzzled sapphire eyes gazing back at him.

"jim?"

"Hey," he managed to croak out, "you're awake. How do you feel?"

"like a stick of dynamite blew up in my stomach."

"You'll eat anything, won't you?" he teased.

Blair smiled weakly and his eyes roamed the camp and lit on the stretcher.

Jim's eyes followed and he nodded, "Yes, Chief. That's for you. We're _both_ heading out in the morning. No discussion."

Blair dragged his focus back to Jim, gazed sadly at him and gave a small shake of his head.

"not this time, Jim, not this time," he whispered. "it's over, you know it, I know it. you've hung on out of some misplaced guilt, Jim. and I've hung on out of...." he looked away for a second, then back, "... it's time to let go."

Something snapped inside Jim Ellison and anger burned deep in his gut....

"You want me to what? Let go by leaving you here? Let go by letting you die? Or maybe just let go of the partnership, the friendship?!" His voice had steadily risen but at the accepting expression on Blair's face, he calmed.

"let go of the guilt, jim. just -- let go. move on with your life, move forward."

"I can't move in any direction without you, Blair. You have to believe that. What? Do you think my _guilt_ brought you back? Or back to the loft? Is it what you believe keeps you with me now? I'm not a martyr, Chief. And no one is that noble."

An eyebrow rose humorously as Blair said, "Jim Ellison? The Great Martyr? The long suffering Sentinel, Jim Ellison, a martyr? Never."

"Damn right. And I'm _not_ long suffering."

"Jim, you're not only long suffering, but you can't even be _silently_ long suffering."

"Nag, nag."

"umm."

Blair shifted uncomfortably, and worked hard at hiding the grimace of pain. Neither man spoke for a few minutes, Blair watching the fire and Jim watching Blair.

Sandburg's eyes finally began drifting shut, fluttering, but he struggled, fought it, because they had to talk, and he had to make Jim understand and accept, but the pain and exhaustion won and he drifted into a troubled sleep.

Jim pulled the sleeping bag up under Blair's chin and let his hand rest against the two day growth of beard. Abstractly, he noticed how long Blair's dark lashes were, how young he looked, asleep, and without any thought, Jim leaned in and rested his lips on Blair's. Then he straightened, stood and foraged for more wood.

*****

When Blair awoke, it was still dark, the fire was low and Jim was sound asleep, resting his head back against the tree, his hand on Blair's arm, fingers curled around Blair's shirt.

Blair gazed into the small blaze and searched his heart for the courage to act.

Jim had to make it unencumbered. _Sans_ Sandburg.

He laid his hand over Jim's ever so briefly, feeling the warmth, the strength of the man, then he painstakingly rose, the sleeping bag sliding down in a quiet whoosh. He steadied himself on the tree, and acknowledged that he was doing the right thing. He was fully cognizant that he would not get far, that upon waking, Jim would have no difficulty finding him, but then hiding was not his goal. Walking far enough, _crawling_ far enough, to ensure that Jim left without him, _that_ was his goal. He was dying and it was time to get the dying done.

He took two deep breaths, and stepped forward. The moment his foot touched down, the pain sent a wave of dizziness washing over him, and he broke out in a cold sweat. But he took another step, and another -- and another.

Blair Sandburg gave no thought to his mother. He sincerely doubted he would be missed for long.... grieved, yes, for awhile, mourned, yes. But Naomi had friends all over the world, she would travel, she would be fine. There were no friends he'd be leaving behind, none that mattered more than Jim, anyway. And the gang at MC would take care of Jim, Simon would take care of Jim, be there for him, and Jim would be free, would make it out of the jungle, leaving behind another fallen comrade.

This was Blair's choice. Full circle. And, just maybe, he was putting something right.

*****

She hadn't known what to expect, but her imagination had filled in the blanks. This sweet tingle was nothing as she'd imagined.

"He is near."

Yurajmayo cocked his head at her and asked, "Should we go back?"

"No. He -- needs help. Can't you feel it?"

Yurajmayo smiled indulgently at Elena. Even after all this time, she still asked.

"No, Elena. I do not feel him." But he paused, because he did feel _something_ , anguish, pain and -- surrender. "You are correct. We must go on. Quickly."

*****

The man was running free, the jungle his home. His legs pumped effortlessly, his breath came easily. Up ahead, and slightly to his right, his spirit Guide ran, a sleek, black jaguar. The man smiled and gazed to his left, fully expecting to find his Guide and mate, running alongside.

He stumbled when he found the space empty.

He recovered, lifted his head, sniffed.... and found -- nothing.

Something was wrong, very wrong. The jungle began to close in, the air became so heavy, he could barely breathe.

*****

Jim awoke, coming to his feet instantly, and knew without looking that Blair was gone.

All his senses focused, narrowed, and icy fingers of dread nearly paralyzed him, but on the edge of his senses... a scent.

He leaped forward and ran quickly, urgently, following the scent, his eyes scanning the jungle floor, taking note of the footsteps, observing as they faded and were replaced by hand and knee prints, then as they faded, and Jim could see the exact moment that Blair had begun to drag himself, and Jim felt the hot tears then his eyes caught a flash of grey....Blair's Henley, and a moment later -- Blair.

He was alive.

"God damn you.... God damn you... how could you do this?," Jim muttered angrily as he slipped his arms under Blair and tenderly lifted, bringing him close, cradling him and he dropped his head, burying his face in hair and before heading back, he whispered, "Fool."

But whether to himself or to Blair, he hadn't a clue.

*****

Jim knew someone was in their camp even before his Sentinel abilities kicked in.... The tingling on his arms, the hair on the back of his neck.... But the feeling was far from uncomfortable or threatening.

Chopec. His adopted people.

He focused his hearing and discerned that two people stood in the makeshift camp, and as he broke through the brush, this was confirmed. One man. One woman. And neither of them familiar to the Sentinel.

He walked over and carefully set Blair down on the sleeping bags and wasn't surprised when both Chopec knelt down on the other side. The woman reached out her hand and touched Blair's stomach. She made a slight noise, almost a clicking sound, but softer, and she frowned as she unhitched a leather pouch from her belt. She directed her words to Jim, but her eyes never left Blair.

"Heat some water, please?"

Jim didn't hesitate. He pulled out the tin, grabbed a water bottle and as he poured, the other Chopec got the fire going. Minutes later she was mixing a fine powder into the water and handing it over to Jim. He lifted Blair's head and brought the container to the man's lips. The liquid went in and Blair swallowed. When the cup was empty, Jim lovingly set Blair back down and covered him.

He now took the time to really _look_ at his guests. The man was tall for a Chopec, his hair braided, his face unpainted. He was, perhaps, mid-twenties. The woman, hair worn uncharacteristically short, and in the clothes of a warrior, not a woman of the tribe -- was a Sentinel.

"I am Elena, this is Yurajmayo," she stated, simply.

"You are a Sentinel."

She nodded and said, "As are you, Enqueri."

"How do you know...."

"Apurimac foretold your coming." Her hand rested gently, almost reverently on Blair's shoulder as she asked, "And this is your Guide and Shaman?"

He nodded, shocked that their coming had been seen. Which was ridiculous. These were the Chopec.

"Apurimac saw the Shaman's injury. We must get him to our village. Antiana can help him, but there is urgency. Even now, he wavers and if left to his own devices, he will move from our world."

In a part of Jim Ellison, a fragment he seldom acknowledged, he'd known that Blair was making just such a choice. All those months ago, dying had not been his choice, but Blair had been given an alternate path, a trail he didn't even know existed and he'd chosen to return. Even now, Jim could see him, the eagerness, the way he bounded back, tail flicking, and without a single doubt, he'd leapt directly toward Jim Ellison.

Jim closed his eyes, reached back and called forth the memory of that moment, on the grass, beside the fountain, a dead Sandburg by his side. And in spite of the pain the memory carried, he opened himself up to receive all of it.... And Jim received the shock of his life, because the first emotion that touched him, was -- joy. Undiluted, childlike, innocent, supreme joy. And it flowed from Blair like Niagara Falls and seemed to explode forth the moment he'd recognized that it was Jim coming for him. He'd simply turned tail and literally _raced_ back to him. The next emotion Jim experienced was.... love. All encompassing, unrestrained, unconditional love. Almost childlike in its simplicity. And again, it rushed over Jim, molding itself to him, filling every empty cavity, and it came from Blair. It both soothed and electrified the Sentinel.

Even as _it_ had been happening, Jim had held back, uncertain, needing only to see Blair breathe. But now.... now he took it all, experienced it all, reveled in it, swam in it, and as their bodies joined, fused, the final emotion, _his_ emotion, washed over him -- arousal. And Jim Ellison experienced the greatest truth.... the arousal was mutual.

A hand, delicately brushing tears from his face brought the Sentinel back to the present.

"We must move now, Enqueri. The medicine will hold him here, with us, but not for long."

"Yes."

*****

With Jim and Yurajmayo carrying the litter and Elena scouting ahead, they made excellent time, stopping every so often so that Elena could administer more of the medicine.

As the day drew to a close, Elena chose a site and they set up another camp. Blair remained unconscious throughout the journey, and Jim knew this was a good thing, but now, settled in, Blair's head in his lap, he realized that he would give anything to have those eyes looking up at him, to hear that wonderful voice.

As Elena and Yurajmayo had been setting up, Jim realized that he was witnessing a Sentinel and Guide in action. And he wondered if that was how he and Blair appeared to others.

Yurajmayo seemed to anticipate every need of Elena's, often acting before she signaled him. More than once, during the long day, Jim had noticed the touches. A hand on Elena's back or arm, and he knew what was happening. Yurajmayo was grounding the young Sentinel -- just as Blair grounded Jim. But Ellison also perceived a difference. Elena and Yurajmayo were clearly friends -- good friends and there was no doubt that deep trust and respect were an integral part of the friendship. There was certainly affection, a closeness... but the touches, the nuances, were completely different from those he shared with Blair.

Yurajmayo touched Elena almost -- clinically. It was his duty, his job. Elena accepted it as part of who she was, and what she _needed_ in order to _be_ a Sentinel. But there was no -- intimacy.

When Blair touched Jim, it was, often, a grounding touch.... the same hand on the back, the chest, or arm, and sometimes the touch was simple, automatic, and sometimes, the touch was in excitement or urgency, and sometimes the touch was even reverent. But they were always, Jim acknowledged now, they were always -- intimate.

And as Jim defined these touches, as he understood the differences, he also admitted his own responses were nothing like Elena's. Where she simply accepted them, he'd often leaned _into_ them, seeking them out, touching in return, needing the heat, the warmth, needing the -- love. He buried his hand in Sandburg's hair, leaning forward, letting his cheek rest on Blair's head as his other arm came around Blair's chest, holding him close, ignoring the two Chopec, his position both possessive and possessed. And finally, irrevocably, Jim Ellison admitted one final truth.... The love had been there for the asking. Blair had given it without the words.

Night moved on, Elena and Yurajmayo trading guard duties, and Jim held on. And lived, briefly, in the past. He chartered their lives, from their first meeting to their last talk. He saw the young Sandburg, eager, energetic, accepting so damn easily, using his brilliant scientific mind, or just as often, his gut, or instinct, to solve every problem that arose. As time passed Blair had matured, but it hadn't been the maturity that comes with age or wisdom, rather it came from seeing a world he'd never have otherwise experienced. And it came from weeks, months and years of being challenged and constantly questioned, sometimes even dismissed, and it came from trying to Guide a stubborn sonofabitch named James Ellison.

His arm tightened around the body, and he was surprised to hear Elena's voice.

"You love him."

He nodded.

She smiled in acknowledgement and with the simplicity born of truth, she said, "Tell him -- he will stay."

Something in his expression must have signaled his disbelief that anything could be so easy, because she added, wryly, "Apurimac said you have difficulty listening.... but does your Shaman? I think not. Say the words, Enqueri; he will hear them and he will believe."

*****

Early the next morning, they arrived at the Chopec village. Elena had gone ahead, and now the village waited, and silently welcomed their previous Sentinel back into their midst, but the faces were subdued, as many eyes rested on the injured Shaman.

A small woman stepped forward and addressed herself to Jim.

"I am Antiana, Enqueri, please bring him into my home."

Antiana was, perhaps, Blair's age, maybe a bit older, but she was completely unknown to Jim. As he started to move forward, to follow her, several of the men gathered around him and one stepped easily in to take the head of the stretcher. These men had been Jim's allies, his fellow warriors as they'd protected the Chopec Pass, and three of them had traveled with Incacha to Cascade.

The group moved into Antiana's hut and it was Jim who lifted Blair from the stretcher to the bed. Once settled, the others, with brief smiles and barely there touches, left the hut.

Jim knelt at the foot of the bed as Antiana and Elena examined Blair. The two women talked quietly as Elena's hands moved to the direction of the healer's command. Finally, Antiana nodded and Elena, with a hand dropping in comfort on Jim's shoulder, left.

The healer stepped over to a small work table and taking a handful of powders from two piles, she mixed, ground, then added water. When she was done, she had a large pitcher full of her concoction. She poured some into an earthen cup and passed it over to Jim, who once again, lifted Blair's head and allowed the mixture to be swallowed.

"Twice a day, Enqueri. He must drink of it twice each day. The injury can be healed, if given the chance."

Jim knew more was coming, and in the Chopec way, he waited.

Antiana recognized the acceptance in the Sentinel's body and nodded her approval.

"He walks in both worlds. The choice is his."

She sat in a chair by the table, knowing she could do nothing more. Jim could easily have taken the other chair, but instead, he slipped off his shoes, gently maneuvered Blair up and then slid into the bed, fitting Blair snugly to his side.

He began to talk softly. It was time for Blair to listen.

Antiana gave the two men a small, satisfied smile.

*****

Jim stroked, and Jim talked. He talked more in the next few hours than in the last ten years; at least, that was how it seemed to the man. As he talked, he dropped small kisses on Blair's temple, and breathed in his scent.

"I'll move your stuff upstairs, as soon as we get home, and maybe I can make a small office for you, we can build a computer desk, and I'll put in an exercise bike for you, and a weight set for me.... yeah, that could work.

"I kinda like your funky beddings, those wild native blankets and furry pillows, I think you should bring those up... and I don't have a bookshelf upstairs, but we can build one, put our favorite books up there... we can read together, a rainy Sunday, we'll never leave the bed.... I don't think I'll have any trouble keeping you warm.

"Would you be surprised to know how many of our co-workers think we're already a couple? Probably not. You know, I even think Simon believes it. And is maybe a little hurt. What do you think?

"I can't help but think how it's been for you, these last several months. I know you love me, and you've suspected I felt the same. I could give you all sorts of reasons why I never just came out and said, 'Blair, I love you.' I could say we work together, we shouldn't be lovers, and I could say, while I have a history with men, you don't. But it would all be hogwash. Yes, smartass, I just said _hogwash_. God only knows why I didn't say anything, why I pushed you so damn hard. And I _do_ mean God. _She_ , as Naomi would say, is undoubtedly the only one who does know.

"But I'm there now, Chief. I'm saying it. I love you. I _need_ you. I want you. God, what you do to me, Blair. If you only knew. Talk about control. Have you any idea what it's taken? Having you downstairs? Seeing you come out of the bathroom, always bundled up, or seeing you first thing in the morning, sleepy, disgruntled, or so damn chipper I have this overwhelming urge to put you in the coffee grinder?

"Would you like to know how many different ways you can say my name? Or how many different expressions of patience your face can have? Or how many directions your hands can go, at the same time? And are you aware of that little hair habit of yours? Has anyone else been subjected to it? The way you sit on the couch, legs crossed, engrossed in some book and you -- eat your hair. You tuck a piece in your mouth and you chew.

"You do, really. And I have to get up, excuse myself, before I jump your bones. Is this a good moment to say, how much I really want to jump your bones?

"I should say at this moment, since I'm talking about jumping your bones, I should add that I'm a very big fan of your brain. I've had dreams of getting into that brain, and it's kinda like a wild carnival. All color and light, movement and action, sounds and noise. And yet, in my dreams, my senses feel perfectly at home. It's weird. I should be all over the map, but no, I'm as comfortable as I can be. Does it seem weird that I dream about your brain? Well, don't worry, I have dreams about your body too.

"Very _X_ -rated dreams, Chief. Very."

"Now is probably not the time to expound on those.... On the other hand...."

"jim?'

The voice interrupted Jim's explanation of his _x_ -rated dreams and he almost told the voice to be quiet, until he realized that it was Blair -- awake.

*****

They'd moved his cot outside, to allow him to soak a few rays and watch the village as it lived the day, so Blair rested, half in, half out of the sun, eyes lazily moving and observing. It had been over twenty-four hours since he'd awakened, to find himself safe in the Chopec village _and_ in Jim's arms.

Which left Blair Sandburg as one confused man.

Okay, he knew _how_ they'd made it to the village, had met Elena and Yurajmayo, knew _how_ he'd survived, to some extent, and had, of course, met Antiana, the healer from hell... and his curiosity about Yurajmayo was off the charts, but he sure as hell didn't understand anything else.... Like the real reason he was still alive.

He'd accepted his death, even come to believe it was right, that the fountain 'incident' was wrong, but here he was, and there'd been no vision this time, no leap, no sleek, black, beautiful Jim/Jaguar coming to call him back, nothing.... Except a voice. That goddamned voice, going on and on, capturing his interest, forcing him to listen for words, words he never quite caught. Oh, he'd managed to snag a few, but they'd made no sense whatsoever....

Like, bookshelves? Stationary bikes? Dreambrain? And what the hell had the hair-eating shit been about? And not that he would tell a soul, but he was damn certain he'd heard something about 'x-rated', he was sure it had been said.

So.

Blair shook his head absently.... nothing made a damn lick of sense.

He noticed a young man approaching and recognized him as Incacha's son, Octavio. He'd met Octavio earlier this morning, and was surprised to find that he was the 'unofficial' leader of the village.

"It is good to see you outside, Damaso. You are much improved."

And that was another thing... they'd already given him a Chopec name. And he had no clue as to the meaning of the name. Did the Chopec even have a word for 'dork'?

"Thank you, Octavio. I feel much stronger and I understand that Jim and Antiana are even considering allowing me to feed myself later today."

Octavio laughed heartily at Blair's words as he sat down on the mat that rested next to Blair's cot.

"Antiana is a strict mother, is she not? And Enqueri is proving an apt pupil. But you will survive, Damaso, you will survive."

"Apparently. And perhaps you can tell me why I am called Damaso? Jim refused and Antiana snorted."

A sly grin broke out on the young leader's face, his eyes crinkling in merriment.

"The name is a reference to... Enqueri. He is not... the man the village knew. The men have seen a -- calmness in him. So, they attribute this to his Shaman. You. So -- Damaso or _Tamer_. You have tamed the Sentinel, Damaso."

Blair would have loved to give out with a great, bellowing laugh at that.... He, Blair Sandburg, taming Jim Ellison? Not very likely. But he knew that his stomach would protest, so he just harumphed.

They were silent for a few moments, both enjoying watching a few children who played nearby. Finally, Octavio glanced over at the young Shaman and asked, "You are confused, Damaso?"

"Confused would be an understatement."

Octavio sent up a small prayer to his father, a prayer that his words would help, would explain. He took a deep breath and....

"It is simple. But sometimes the human heart can take the simplest truth, and...."

"Confuse it?"

"Yes, Damaso, and perhaps, interpretations? Is that the right word?"

Blair nodded, telling Octavio that his choice was correct. Octavio, like Elena and Yurajmayo, had been educated in Lima, and all spoke English quite well. Elena had returned to the village in 1992, Yurajmayo in 1990 and Octavio in 1989.

"The heart often wars with the mind, and the simple becomes difficult as we place interpretations on the most basic of truths. A shaman, Damaso, moves in many worlds, and you are no different. Your injury, your feelings of..." he paused, searching for the right word, then as he found it, continued, "... inadequacies..." His eyebrow rose, questioning the word and again, Blair nodded. "Yes, then," he continued, "your feelings of inadequacies and failure moved you to believe that you no longer belonged in _this_ world. That you no longer belonged with Enqueri."

"But Enqueri convinced you that you were wrong. He spoke from his heart, lifted the dark veil, and you listened, and you -- returned."

"So, you minored in Psych, Octavio?" Blair teased.

"Why, yes. How did you know?" Octavio teased back.

"So the voice I heard -- it was Jim. But the words. I couldn't understand the words, Octavio."

"No, Damaso, but you listened to what they _meant_ , yes?"

Blair frowned, trying to recall -- if he'd _felt_ anything as he'd tried so hard to understand.... and he closed his eyes, breathed in, and felt -- warm, safe.... and loved. He _had_ understood the meanings of the words, even if he had not heard the words themselves.

Jim loved him. Wanted him. So where was the big lug now? Off in the jungle with Elena. What? Was he afraid of Blair's response? Still?

"He's a jerk."

It wasn't until Octavio laughed and said, "Yes," that Blair realized he'd spoken aloud.

"So he goes traipsing around, leaving me here?"

"Well, you could hardly go with him, and he wanted to afford you the opportunity to talk with me and Yurajmayo. So, he and Elena went for a -- walk."

"A walk? A _walk_? Right."

"Has our talk not been beneficial?"

"Beneficial.... um, let me see if I can put this in perspective, Octavio.... Jim left _you_ to tell _me_ that he loved me. Do the names Miles Standish and John Alden mean anything to you?"

"I know of your 'Pilgrim' heritage, yes. So, you are Priscilla?"

"Oh, god.... I have to laugh, and it's going to hurt...." and he tried, and it did hurt, but it was worth it. He was Priscilla? Well, he certainly had the hair for it. Shit.

"And Octavio? You need a new definition of simple. Simple and James Ellison _so_ do not go together."

"Is not truth always simple, Damaso?"

"No, truth is often the most difficult thing in life, Octavio. And so is Jim Ellison."

"Ah, but are you not Damaso? The tamer?"

"God, don't make me laugh again."

*****

Jim knew that Blair was being well cared for, and yet, he should be there, by his side. But, for all that he'd experienced, there was still a large part of his brain that functioned in Cascade time, and that part could not bear it if he saw.... or maybe he should say, if he _didn't_ see in Blair's eyes what should be there. So when Elena had said that strangers were on their way, he'd hurried to accompany her, leaving Octavio and Yurajmayo behind to talk with Blair.

Now, as they drew close to the trespassers, both Jim and Elena moved into their Sentinel modes. Their bodies dropped low, all senses alert... until Jim picked up a scent... familiar... if he could just place it....

Jim straightened, smiling and moved forward quickly, knowing who was just beyond sight. Elena, puzzled but trusting, followed.

Twenty minutes later they came upon the 'strangers'.

"Simon. Out for a mid-day stroll?"

Simon Banks whirled at the sound of Jim Ellison's voice, and at his first glance, he grinned broadly.

"So, you're alive and well?"

"So it would seem. And you just happened to drop by? Peru?"

"Well, you know how it goes... word comes, a friend heads out. Sandburg?" The two men shook and Simon was pounding Jim on the back as he spoke.

"Sandburg is... alive. And getting better."

Simon frowned and worriedly asked, "He was injured?"

"Yes, in the crash. But he went over two days before saying anything. I almost lost him."

Simon didn't miss the _way_ Jim had said the words, _I almost lost him_ , and secretly, he was glad. Maybe Jim had finally acknowledged his feelings for his partner. Especially since Blair's were so patently obvious.

"Simon, this is Elena. Elena, this is Captain Simon Banks, our boss and good friend."

Elena stepped forward, hand outstretched, and Simon, somewhat confused, took it and gave a hearty shake.

"This is William Santiago, Jim. He arranged my transportation and guided me here."

Elena had already moved to Santiago's side, a welcoming smile on her face.

"William, it is good to see you."

Simon and Jim gazed over the two people's heads and exchanged puzzled looks.

"I take it you two know each other, Elena?" Jim asked.

Santiago's arm was now around Elena's waist, as the two turned, smiling, to Ellison and Banks.

"Yes, we met in Lima, many years ago. He visits... often."

Santiago reached out a hand and Ellison shook, seeing a great deal in _how_ the two stood, so close, so _intimate_. Yes, apparently Elena and Santiago knew each other quite well.

*****

Yurajmayo considered the man on the cot. And he was unsure. He was Elena's Guide, yes. But Damaso was Enqueri's Guide, and a Shaman. How could Yurajmayo possibly assist him?

"He won't bite, Yurajmayo."

The Guide turned to find Apurimac standing behind him. "He needs you, trust me."

"I do not see how _I_ can be of assistance to _him_. He is a Shaman, like you, Apurimac. And the Guide to The Sentinel of the Great City."

"He is also a scientist, and he distrusts his own abilities. He does not understand. He had no teacher, Yurajmayo. Do you see?"

The Guide's eyes widened. "No teacher?"

"None. What he has done, has been without guidance. So, how can he know?"

No teacher. Yurajmayo was stunned. While it was true that his ability to connect with Elena was born within him, the manner in which he assisted the Sentinel had to be taught, explained. How in all the heavens had Damaso succeeded?

Yurajmayo moved toward the cot.

"Damaso, may I sit?"

Blair looked up, shading his eyes, and nodded, "Please, Yurajmayo, join me."

Apurimac smiled in satisfaction.

*****

"But how did you _know_ that a touch would bring him back?"

"I wish I could tell you, Yurajmayo, but I can't. It was months before I realized it _was_ touch. It is touch that you use for Elena?"

"Of course, Shaman. It is always touch. It is the most immediate connection between two people, is it not?"

Blair couldn't disagree with that. "Yes. But why our touch, and no one else's?"

"That is a connection that is born within us, Shaman."

"And if a Sentinel should lose that _'touch'_?"

Yurajmayo knew exactly what Damaso was asking, and it was a question that had plagued him in the beginning. The survival of their village depended on Elena. The Chopec had had only three Sentinels in their history. And had grown and prospered during those times. If he should die, what would happen to Elena? So he had questioned their Shaman, Apurimac, Incacha's successor. He gave the same answer now, that Apurimac had given him.

"The Sentinel would either choose to no longer _be_ a Sentinel, or... they would eventually, sooner rather than later, follow their Guide. Elena would choose the former. She has feelings for... someone. I believe they will marry soon. So she would live her life, but no longer a Sentinel. But if the Sentinel had no one else.... Like our first Sentinel, Onyqui. His Guide was also his wife, Canta, Incacha's grandmother, and when she died, he followed, two days later."

This cemented Blair's own thoughts. He'd often wondered if Jim would be all right without him, and had made the decision that he would be fine. But now....

"And you, Yurajmayo? If you lost Elena?"

He shrugged. "I have no other connection to her. And Antiana and I, well.... I would go on, but there would be a great emptiness."

"And if it had been Incacha's grandmother who had left Onyqui?"

"Canta would have followed her husband."

As Blair would follow Jim.

Blair's eyes traveled over the village, as he worked through what Yurajmayo had shared.

He was Jim's Guide. His only Guide. And, maybe, he was indeed a Shaman. A few corners had undoubtedly been cut, which might explain Incacha's dying oath, that he was passing on the way of the Shaman. _Showing_ Blair the way, the path. Giving him the necessary directions, so to speak. And somehow, it had worked. He'd certainly accomplished one of the necessary feats of a Shaman -- he'd died. And come back. He'd been to the other side, not once, but twice now.

He should get a new stamp for his passport.

Blair smiled, a deep, serene smile, born of comfort, of final self knowledge. He was who he was. A Guide, a shaman. A man. Science was also a part of him, but it rested, now, between two worlds. To be used when the modern world required it, but it was not the alpha and the omega of Blair Sandburg. And he now realized it had never _been_ the major part of him. Thirst for knowledge, for understanding, acceptance of so many worlds and cultures, yes, that had been his driving force.

A peace settled over him, the peace that comes from finally finding your niche, settling in, shaking hands with yourself, and liking who you were.

"Thank you, Yurajmayo. Thank you very much. You have helped me. Where the road was blocked, you have cleared it."

"It is my pleasure, Shaman."

Now if a certain Neanderthal of a Sentinel would get back....

*****

"How much farther, Jim?"

"About... thirty feet."

Banks was exhausted. The worry for Ellison and Sandburg had weighed heavily, and he was beyond hearing the normal sounds of a village. But a moment later, they stepped into a clearing, and Simon was gazing at the Chopec village that had given asylum to Jim Ellison all those years ago.

The Chopec gave not a thought to Simon as they greeted Elena, Santiago and 'Enqueri'. If Simon was with them, he was obviously okay.

As they neared the center of the village, Simon finally spotted Sandburg. He lay on a cot, a young man sitting crosslegged at his side. His head turned, obviously at something the man said, and he spotted them.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he noted Simon, then he broke out in a huge grin. "Simon? Things so bad in Cascade, you had to come to Peru and drag Jim back?"

The big man moved to Blair's side, his eyes taking in the slight pallor beneath the tan, and the body, thinner than Simon remembered. But the eyes, they brimmed with excitement and health, and -- joy. And a touch of mischief?

"Had to drag _both_ my best detectives back. And I see you're making yourself right at home, Sandburg?"

"Natch. Pull up a mat and have a seat."

Jim watched the banter, enjoying it, noting the emotion in Simon, having taken stock of his heart rate when he first spotted Blair, and now, the happiness at seeing him alive. Simon was a sucker for Blair, plain and simple.

But Jim stayed back, still uncertain, and he watched as Octavio was introduced, as Elena introduced Santiago, and Jim noticed a shared look between Yurajmayo and Blair, a very conspiratorial look, and when Antiana joined them, sitting beside Yurajmayo, Jim got the picture.

And he still hung back.

"Simon, did you get to parachute in?"

"Gosh, no Sandburg. I came in the old fashioned way, by chopper. When your flight never arrived in Lima, and it was concluded that the plane was lost, I decided to start here, in the village, to look for you two, hoping the Chopec could help. Little did I know."

Blair gave a quick look at Jim, a look that gave nothing away to the Sentinel, then said, "You know, Jim owes you. Fifty, wasn't it, Jim?" The expression on his face was of pure innocence.

Simon checked out Jim, then back to Sandburg. "Fifty? Okay, what happened?"

"Well, Simon, you're really not going to believe this, and it wasn't Jim's fault, not entirely. But you see, the other passenger? On our little charter flight? Was a drug runner. With his samples. Which Jim could smell, of course. From there, we moved quickly into the Gunfight at the OK Corral."

"And to top it off? The pilot was his compadre. Jim shot the dealer, the dealer shot the pilot. I didn't shoot anybody, but I bravely brought down the plane. Saving Jim's life in the process." Blair huffed on the tips of his fingers, then rubbed them across his chest.

Simon's mouth had dropped open in the story telling and he now turned to Jim for confirmation.

"Jim? Is this true?"

"More or less."

"Hey, Jim, what part is more and what part would be less? Did you shoot the dealer?"

"That part would be correct."

"Did the dealer shoot the pilot?"

"Um, yes."

"Did I shoot anybody?"

"That would be a no. You forgot your gun."

"Did not. It was packed. Did I land the plane without injury to you?"

"No, Blair, you _crashed_ the plane without injury to me."

Blair gave a little dismissive wave of his hand and said, "Semantics, Jim. Semantics."

The Chopec were enjoying this little by-play, and Simon suddenly felt right at home. But he could feel an undercurrent... and was at loss to explain it.

"And you didn't manage to _crash_ the plane without injury to yourself." This last was spoken very gently, very quietly.

And Antiana stood, bringing Yurajmayo up with her, addressed everyone. "I believe, speaking of injuries, that we should get Damaso back into the hut, he is tired and I'm sure he and Enqueri would like some time with their friend. Yes?"

Everyone nodded, and in minutes, Blair was back inside, food was brought in and the three men were left alone, but not before Yurajmayo invited Simon to have his hut for the remainder of his stay, assuring the man that he would stay with Octavio.

*****

The atmosphere in the comfortable hut changed as the three men were left alone. Simon gazed first at Jim, who was standing by the door, studiously avoiding making any kind of contact with Sandburg, then to Sandburg, who lay, propped up, arms crossed over his chest, that Sandburg 'I'm gonna get you when you least expect it' grin plastered on his face as he _pointedly_ regarded Jim.

Simon kept going back and forth, forth and back until his neck started to hurt and he decided food was just the ticket. He walked nonchalantly to the table, placed some fruit and meat on a plate and started to give it to Sandburg.

"He can't have solids yet. The liquid in the bowl is his," Jim said quietly.

Simon glanced down at the plate, over to Jim, who was now fascinated by his shoes and then to Blair, who grinned and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be fun.

"Yes. Well, then. Here you go, Jim. Eat hearty," and he handed the plate back to Ellison, who just shook his head.

"Jim. Eat." The voice from the cot was low and gentle. Jim took the plate. Banks gave a little shake of his head. Had Sandburg _always_ had this control over Ellison?

Simon took the bowl, but before he could give it to Sandburg, Jim took it.

"I'll take care of that, Simon. Eat."

Jim, hands full, walked over to the bed, sat down in the chair and gave the bowl to Sandburg. Simon grabbed the other chair and pulled it to the other side, went back and filled a plate, then joined his friends.

"So, mom. I get to feed myself?"

"Don't push it, runt."

Blair's eyebrows rose alarmingly at the newest nickname, but he said nothing more as he sipped the thin, but delicious, broth.

For several minutes, the only sound was of food being chewed, liquid being _slurped_. Blair looked quite content, but a little tired and Simon was quick to note that the younger man finished only half of his broth. Jim ate slowly, still refusing to make any real contact with Sandburg, other than occasionally following the soup laden spoon up to Blair's mouth. Simon could get into such messes when he was around these two. Jeesh.

Finally Blair set his bowl on the table at his side, rested his head back and said, "Hey, Simon, do you know the story of John Alden, Miles Standish and the famous Priscilla?"

Confused, but willing to play along if it would ease tensions, Simon nodded, and answered, "I'm acquainted with it, yes."

"Well, meet Miles Standish," and Blair indicated Jim, who immediately said, "Sand-burg..." in his best warning tone.

"You know, guys, this rescue business is exhausting. I think I'll just turn in," and Simon stood, gave one last look at both men, dropped his plate on the table and beat a hasty retreat because Ellison had _looked_ at Sandburg and the expression said, _Ve vant to be alone_.

Who was he to argue? And how badly _could_ Sandburg, injured as he was, beat up Ellison?

*****

After Simon's departure, the two men stared each other down. Blair broke first.

"Could you explain the _braindream_?"

Taken aback that those would be Blair's first words when they were alone, he managed to squeak out, "Wha'?"

"You. Talking to me. I caught a few words, but they made no sense. Like _dreambrain_ , or _braindream_...."

Shit. He really needed to watch those deathbed confessions.

"I... was discussing... your brain. How much I... you know... love it. Andidreamaboutit."

"Uh, you dream about my brain? You _dream_ about _my_ brain?"

"Well -- yes."

"And?"

"Just -- yes."

"Uh-huh. And the stationary bike? I'm having difficulty connecting dreaming about my brain and a stationary bike."

"Oh, that's easy," and he visibly relaxed, much to Blair's delight. "I was just saying how, when we got home, I'd get you a stationary bike, and me a weight set and put them in your room. That's all."

Blair frowned, puzzled, "Jim, there's barely room for me in my room. How do you figure the exercise equipment?"

"Oh. Well. I was, you know... it was just an idea," he finished lamely.

"Okay, how about the bookshelves? I already have some."

Uh-oh.

"I just thought, it would be nice, if we, um, if _I_ built a set... upstairs."

"mmm."

Blair shifted a bit, feeling only a twinge of discomfort as he tried to mentally put the clues together.... Jim's mind could be a booby-trapped maze.

It took him longer than it should have, but he chalked it up to almost dying.

"OOh, _I_ get it. _WE_ turn my room into a kind of exercise room, I move upstairs and _WE_ build some bookshelves. For _our_ books. Right?"

Jim smiled softly and said, "Yeah, that's it, Chief."

"We'd definitely need bookshelves, for reading on rainy Sundays...." Blair mused. "And you will tell me the next time you dream about my _brain_ , won't you?"

"Absolutely."

"So, it was my brain you found _x-rated_?"

"Not exactly, Chief. Try my _thoughts_."

"X-rated thoughts about us, I hope."

"Absolutely, _Priscilla_."

"Stick with runt, it's safer for you."

Jim stood and took the bowl and his plate back to the main table, and returned with a cup, which he held out to Blair.

"Medicine. Take it like a man, Priscilla."

"Yes, Miles. And did you know, Priscilla didn't end up with Miles? Just thought you should know that."

"So, you're planning on eloping with Octavio?"

"Yep. We leave in the morning. Imagine."

"On that note, I'll take _my_ leave so you can get some sleep. Octavio is an early riser."

"And you're sleeping exactly where?"

"I'll bunk in with Simon."

"Okay."

And Blair waited.

Jim walked to the door, and just as he was about to leave, Blair coughed.

Jim turned around, Blair just smiled.

"You really gonna let me go? Consign me to a night with Simon?"

"What? You wanna sleep here? You want me to move or something?"

"Fuck you, Sandburg."

"Not tonight, Miles, I have a headache."

Jim's eyes narrowed, and he strode over, plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, told Blair to, "Shove it over, runt," pulled off his shoes and shirt, picked Sandburg up, slid in under him, settled Blair back in the crook of his arm and pulled up the blanket.

And Blair found himself suddenly tense, suddenly -- uncertain. He kept his body rigid, fixating on Jim's comfort.

"You smell good," Jim whispered, his lips close to Blair's ear.

"Antiana -- kinda gave me a bath. I changed. You know." His answer was remarkably calm considering how warm he'd suddenly become.

"mmm...." And Jim nuzzled in the hair just behind Blair's left ear. Blair's eyes drifted shut, and he unconsciously turned into Jim.

"you smell good too."

"Manly sweat."

Blair chuckled and turned his head slightly, breathing deeply, taking in Jim's scent. He shifted a bit, almost onto his side, and brought his arm across Jim's chest. It felt -- strange, the way he just fit into Jim's side. But good too. Like when you're doing a puzzle, and trying piece after piece, fitting, conforming, pushing, trying to _make_ the wrong piece fit, then the wonderful feeling you got when you picked up the right piece and it just -- fit. But of course, the piece had been _designed_ to fit.

Like Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison -- a perfect fit.

He sighed, felt Jim's arm come across his shoulder and felt it tighten as Jim dropped his cheek down on the top of Blair's head. And Blair lay there, in Jim's arms, his eyes drifting closed, and he considered his thoughts of just two days ago, and he experienced a sudden chill... As a question was asked in his mind....

How could Jim love him? Blair might now know who he was.... but that didn't excuse who'd he'd been. Or how he'd treated Jim. So, how could the man love him?

"Jim?"

"Um?"

"Do you ever wonder how you could put up with me, all this time?" Little catches in Blair's voice and small tremors in the words gave away the real emotion behind the question, and Jim knew he must choose his answer carefully.

"I've wondered about several things, Chief, but that was never one of them. I've often wondered how one five-foot, seven-inch man could use so many towels taking one shower, and I've really puzzled about the man who needs an alarm clock to remind him to go _to_ bed, and how when he still forgets, he manages to follow the big jerk he lives with all over Hell's half acre. I've wondered all _those_ things, a whole lot."

"I've also wondered about the man who placed illegal bets to get himself through school, but who balked at a detective _breaking and entering_.... and I've wondered why that man stuck around. But I've never wondered why I _put_ up with him. Does that answer your question?"

_Does that answer your question?_

"I don't use that many towels."

"I've counted 'em. The least you use is three, the most, six and the average, five."

"Shit. You actually counted. My God, you _are_ anal. I mean, we joke about it, but god dammit, you -- _count_."

"I am not anal. That's a misconception. I'm military, orderly.... there's a difference."

Blair raised his head and favored Jim with his best, ' _He-lllo_ in there!' look as he said, "Jim, anal is a _synonym_ for military."

"Not in my world. In my world, _perfect_ is a synonym for military. In fact, if you look up a synonym for the word 'perfect', you'll find Jim Ellison listed."

There was complete silence, then Blair rolled over on his back and began to pound the blanket with his fists as he started making choking noises, and gulping for air and he tried to rise, to lift his head, but his face was turning red and then he really _was_ choking and Jim bounded up, tried to help, but stood helpless as Blair grabbed his stomach and leaned forward, and the choking got worse as he heard Jim's voice....

"Jesus, what is it? ... Should I get Antiana? ... Talk to me, Chief, talk to me.... oh, god, you're dying again, aren't you?"

But Jim shut up as he caught Blair's words, muttered out between great big gobs of air being sucked in....

"... god damned fucking Sentinel... making me laugh, _knowing_ it's gonna hurt... perfect my ass! gonna kill him, _after_ Simon leaves... 'kay, does have a perfect fucking body, but that's where _this_ Guide draws the line... serve the dickhead right if _I_ keel over right now..." And finally, "... Jim Ellison, synonym for perfect, HA!... synonym for bastard, for jerk... just try looking up, 'Crosses Blair Sandburg Must Bear' and guess whose name would top the very short list? James fucking Joseph fucking Ellison, that's who...."

Jim straightened, crossed his arms and attempted to look very threatening, but at continued mutterings like, "...oh, yeah, look at him now, trying to look so fucking tough, big, mean ole' Jim Ellison... I'll tell you what he's perfect at... he's the perfect kitty cat... a real pussy cat, here, Jimmy, come here Jimmy, nice kitty, come to Blair, nice kitty...."

The ends of Jim's mouth twitched and he tried to keep the grin under control, but a vision of him lying naked, on his back, head nuzzling Blair's groin, as Blair petted him and scratched....

And the atmosphere made an abrupt three-sixty, turned so fast that Jim immediately got dizzy, and Blair's laughter died, and he rose to his knees, eyes suddenly locked onto Jim's, and he reached out, tucked his fingers inside Jim's waistband and pulled, and Jim came, so that his legs were pressed against the cot, and Blair's fingers fumbled with the belt, then the snap, and Jim's breathing became a fast rush of trying to catch air, and Blair smiled up at him, while one hand played with the zipper of Jim's pants, but _not_ lowering it, then Blair's head moved and his tongue flicked out, burying itself in Jim's navel while the hand at the zipper massaged the now hard mound straining at the material and finally, finally he lowered the zipper and that tongue followed it down, and Jim shivered, and his eyes closed as the heat grew, burning him, and he was swaying, and he'd never experienced anything like this... this... this wet heat that was Blair's tongue and lips....

Hands grasped and pulled and the jeans and boxers were lowered, but his cock didn't have a chance to spring free, because Blair already had it in his mouth, his hands gripping Jim's thighs as he worked him, as tongue and mouth drove Jim crazy, and he had to seriously reconsider his assessment that Blair had no experience in this arena, because with or without his Sentinel sensibilities, _no one_ had ever been able to do this to him, no one had ever sent this flame coursing through his body like a god damned roto-rooter, churning his blood, forcing his pulse to deafen him and blind him and he was afraid to move, to thrust, but Blair _knew_ , so _he_ moved, and Jim surrendered to his body, something he'd _never_ been able to do before... and it didn't take long after that, and he was coming and yelling and he'd worry later about what the Chopec and Simon thought about his Jungle Jim yell....

His knees went weak, and Blair's arms came around him, but he had the presence of mind _not_ to collapse on the injured man, instead, slipping to his knees on the floor and wrapping his arms around Blair and resting his head weakly on Blair's shoulder.... And he smiled into Blair's t-shirt as the younger man began to stroke Jim's back and his hair, murmuring, "Good kitty, pretty kitty, nice kitty...."

*****

"I hope you don't think that just because you sent me to Mars, that we won't talk about the stunt you pulled in the jungle." Jim yawned as he spoke the last word, but he turned to look at Blair, who scrunched up his face and said,

"... um, ouch."

"What?"

"Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"You said, 'ouch'."

"No, I didn't... ugh..."

"Now you said, 'ugh'."

"Jim, people don't _say_ ugh, they -- _sound_ it."

Jim managed to lift himself, to look suspiciously at Sandburg, but saw only sleepy innocence gazing back.

"Bla-ir....did you -- hurt yourself -- you know... when you, er, we, er... _you know_?"

"No. I'm fine, really. Fine."

He lay back, relieved and continued, "So what in God's name were you thinking back there? You could have di--"

"Argh."

"Oh, shit. You _did_ hurt yourself. Okay, okay, let me think.... you need to sleep, to rest, this can wait until tomorrow, although maybe I need to get Antiana...." Jim paused, mid-sentence, his brain recovering enough to realize that he'd been masterfully manipulated. "You little shit."

"Now, Jim...."

"Don't you 'now Jim' me, you little shit...."

"You said that already."

"It bears repeating.... you little shit."

A hand began to stroke Jim's arm....

"nice kitty, handsome kitty...."

But Jim wasn't buying, this was too serious. He rolled over and braced himself so that he was directly above Sandburg, but not _on_ him.

"What you did was...."

"Despicable."

"Yes, that's it exactly. Despicable. You gave no thought to...."

"... you."

"Yes, or to your... "

"... mother."

"Uh-huh, or to your... "

"... friends."

"Right...." Jim's gaze caught Blair's and he moaned at the raw emotion staring back at him....

"i'm sorry, jim. i am. i thought i was doing the right thing, i did. and naomi, well we both know she'd be fine... and you know damn well that no one back home would miss... "

Jim stopped the horrible rush of words with a hand gently placed over Sandburg's mouth. "Simon didn't leave his department or Daryl to hike over the mountains of Peru to find the Blue Tattooed Hornswagler, you know."

"Bmphtattmphdhorswglmohr?"

Jim removed his hand and said, "Sand-burg...."

"Jim, Simon came after you, his best friend."

Jim reared back and gaped at the remarkably intelligent doofus below him. Sandburg couldn't really believe that, could he? But... he did. The puzzled look on Blair's face told him that.

"Jim, I was only thinking of you, I swear. You were the only person, because I knew you would try to get me to the village, and I wouldn't make -- it, and you would have tried so fucking hard, and I'd be dead and you'd feel so god damned guilty... and maybe you wouldn't make it, and you _had_ to make it, and all I had to do," and Blair paused, took a breath, and continued, even as Jim slid out of the bed, walked stiffly over to the door, and pushed it open.... " and all I had to do was walk as far as I could, then crawl as far... " but his voice finally trailed off as he watched Jim, standing so tall, and silent, and -- still.

Blair sighed deeply, his body going boneless as he thought that he'd hit the point of no return with Jim, and there was no going back now and everything he'd learned in the last couple of days didn't matter a damn, so he rolled over onto his side, facing _away_ from the door, tried to take calming breaths, to slow his stupid heart and gave a passing thought to open heart amputation, but the cot dipped, creaked and rustled, and arms came around him and one long leg draped itself over his, and Blair felt a splatter of salty moisture hit his temple and run down to mingle with his as Jim whispered, "promise, blair, promise me you will never make such a decision again -- ever. please?"

"jim...." but Jim's arms tightened, his words rasped out, shutting out any explanation Blair could give....

"Promise -- me. P-r-o-m-i-s-e -- me. We're a matched set, no one gets one without the other. Not god, not the devil, no one. Say it, Blair.... say it."

Blair turned in the arms that he now knew would hold him forever and he whispered into Jim's neck, "I promise, Jim. I promise," and he felt the _wuff_ of Jim's relief as the air ruffled his hair and Jim's final words guided him to sleep....

"I love you."

*****

The new day brought Sandburg outside again on his own wobbly feet and finally to lounge and, again, observe. Jim never strayed far from his side, and rarely allowed a moment to go by that he wasn't touching Sandburg, reconnecting, and at noon, several of the Chopec gathered around the two men and Simon for an impromptu picnic.

Antiana and Jim checked Blair out as the tables and food were being set up, and they both grinned, because Blair was doing well and Antiana predicted that he would be almost back to normal by the end of the week and broth was history.

Elena and Yurajmayo had left before dawn, out to scout the area, and were the only ones missing as the picnic progressed.

Several of the Chopec children were very curious about Sandburg, some walking over and openly staring at the Shaman, while others held back, hiding behind a parent's leg, shyly peeking out. Blair, finding the curiosity funny, would waggle his eyebrows or wink or cross his eyes and suck like a fish, which would send even the most shy into gales of laughter. As far as Jim was concerned, he was the legendary Enqueri, and while he warranted some covert looks, he was one of them.

What the children did puzzle over was the closeness between Sentinel and Guide, the _oneness_ of the two men. The older children were in awe, while the younger just felt -- safe. Two small four-year-olds, twins, left their mother's side and without any preamble, walked boldly over to Jim and Blair and, while the little girl just held her arms up for Jim and smiled when he lifted her without thought, the boy simply crawled into Blair's lap, rested his head against Blair's chest and watched as long, slender fingers began to sneak up on him, to make little puppet sounds, like, "eek!" and "oh, no!" and the boy giggled and calmly took one of the fingers and pretended to eat it.

Eventually, the food was eaten and talk was done, and the Chopec had to go back to the daily task of living from the land. Children were led away, heads turning for one last glimpse, and shy smiles shared. Two sound asleep twins were gently given back to parents and Simon headed off with Octavio for a tour, which left Sentinel and Guide alone.

"Any thoughts about going back with Simon when Santiago returns on Thursday?" Jim asked as he plopped himself down and sat cross-legged at Blair's feet.

"I don't see any reason to leave early. I'm fine. We should stick with our original plans. Well, except for taking...."

" _R Flights R Cheap_ back to Lima?"

"Well, yes. Pushing our luck and all that.... and the guys don't really need _another_ fifty bucks apiece."

"So we stay for the remaining nine days, and have Santiago come back for us?"

"Yep. I'd love to go out with you, Elena and Yurajmayo, see what it's like, you know, to be a Guide in...."

"In a pre-civilized culture?" Jim teased.

"... in the jungle with a throwback to a pre-civilized culture."

"So we stay."

"We stay."

*****

Thursday came too fast for Simon, and in what seemed like minutes instead of days, they were all standing in a clearing, saying good-bye.

Santiago took the luggage and stored it on board the chopper and arranged to return in seven days to pick up Jim and Blair.

The three men stood, a bit awkwardly, Simon not wanting to leave, but knowing he must. He finally reached out and shook hands with Jim, then turned to Sandburg.

"You take care of yourself, you hear? If I find out from Jim that you didn't, you'll be grounded when you get home, understand?"

The surprise on Blair's face, the puzzled brows knitting together made Simon realize that Blair really didn't know how much he cared. How he worried over him, fretted each time he went out into the field, that he felt like Blair's father, and that he had _two_ sons, not just one.

"Sure, Simon. You know me."

Simon stared at the younger man for a few seconds, than held out his hand and they shook, and he held for a few extra seconds, saw the aborted 'hug' maneuver of Sandburg's and, in that instant, Simon Banks decided that Blair Sandburg's world was the real world, the worthwhile world, the one you fight for, and die for, and he quickly pulled the younger man into his massive chest, and held him in a hug, and it felt damn good, and as he released him, he said quietly, "no more dying, okay? I can't afford anymore gray hairs." Blair blinked up at him, and he nodded, mutely, and Simon turned and climbed aboard the chopper, waved a final goodbye and yelled out, "Monday, November fifteenth, eight o'clock sharp!" The chopper lifted and Simon kept watching until the two men, standing with their arms about each other faded from sight.

*****

**Epilogue**

Their last day. And Blair felt some unfinished business existed, but couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what.

It was almost three-thirty, and they'd come back from their final scouting trip with Elena and Yurajmayo, cleaned up, eaten supper, and now sat outside, watching the children play. As Blair gazed up through the trees, to the late afternoon sky, he knew what the unfinished business was....

"Jim, is there someplace nearby where we could go up and watch the sunset?"

Jim nodded, and said, "About forty minutes from here, yeah. Why?"

Blair looked over at him and smiled. "I'd just like to watch a sunset with you.... here, in Peru. Do you mind?"

Jim stood and held out his hand in answer.

*****

They made good time, and by four-forty, they were sitting on the small hill, just high enough to get a good view of the western sky. They had spread out a couple of blankets and were downing some water, and as Jim watched Blair drink, as his throat constricted and swallowed, Ellison leaned over, took the water bottle away and kissed him.

In the last several days, they'd become well acquainted with each other's bodies, with loving each other, but there was one thing that hadn't, as yet, happened. And Jim wanted it now. Needed it now. On this small hill, overlooking the village where he'd been brought back to life, so to speak, and where Blair had been brought back.

His hands undid buttons. Lips never parting, shirts were discarded, then jeans.... and he was gazing down at the body he loved more than any other, at the _person_ , the man, he loved more than his own life, and he had to taste every inch of that body, learn it all over again, and he loved how, when he tried to possess Blair, Blair would raise his head, try to capture any part of Jim's body that he could, and how Blair's hands were always moving, stroking, exploring, and wherever Blair's hands went, his mouth just naturally followed.... and then Jim heard the words he needed to hear, as Blair whispered, "yes, now."

And as the sun began its journey down, Jim Ellison bent over Blair Sandburg, kissed him deeply, was kissed just as deeply, legs were wrapped around his waist, both men wanting to _see_ each other, to love face to face, and Blair surprised Jim, as his fingers grappled with the backpack, and pulled out a bottle belonging to Antiana, and he pulled off the lid, poured some of the warm, soft liquid into Jim's hands, then his own, and those hands moved down and coated Jim's cock and Jim gazed at Blair with such love and amazement, because this meant that Blair had wanted this as well, had _thought_ about it, and as the sky was shot with burnt umber and pale pinks, Jim prepared his partner, his lifemate, and they kissed, searched each other's faces, smiling, and as a riot of rich reds, deep purples and bright yellows and oranges captured the sky, as the village below went gray, as shadows deepened, Jim entered Blair, and they were moving, and behind Jim's body, the colors faded, the pinks stretching out, the clouds once again deep purple in color, dark, shaded shapes, and in the distance, a jungle cat cried, and Blair Sandburg arched up and came with Jim's name on his lips, and moments later, Jim came, deep, and the two men shuddered, and their bodies went down, Jim's head buried in Blair's neck, his spent cock still buried deep, and when he tried to pull out, to roll over and to bring Blair with him, a whispered "no," stopped him, and when the _no_ was followed by a _"stay"_ , he stayed, and Blair held him, and over Jim's shoulder, Blair watched the sun's exit, watched the orb disappear, and sighed in quiet joy, because as the day ended, their life together continued.

End

 

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters from **The Sentinel** are the property of Pet Fly Productions, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Characters from any other television show, movie or book are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. We believe the works contained in this archive to be transformative in nature and therefore protected under the 'fair use' provisions of copyright law.

This story archived at <http://asr3.slashzone.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1275>


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